You Don't Have To Say It For Me To Know
by Tris'sLightningQuill
Summary: Sweet little bit of fluff, mid DH, Lupin and Tonks. I drew a picture, and then I HAD to write the scene that went with it! He was always so reserved and leery while she had no inhibitions, giving everything she had. He just didn't know how to show he care


He unlocked the door with a whispered spell, having forgot his key, and padded silently into the flat. He winced when the door creaked as he closed it, but the hush was absolute, the small rooms suffused with the pale light of pre-dawn. He sighed as he shrugged off his coat and boots and laid his wand on the table, pausing for a held breath to watch it roll in a sloping arch across the water-stained surface into a half-eaten plate of food, the white carnations in the cheap crystal vase drooping slightly. Making his way to the bedroom, he put a hand in front of his face as he passed the mirror on the wall, unwilling to be confronted with his reflection this early in the morning, so soon after he found himself again. The moon had set only a couple hours ago, but he'd gone straight home, not waiting for daylight. He was tired to the bone, the chill mists clinging to the empty London streets seeping deep into his marrow.

She lay facedown in a jumbled mess of blankets and pillows, sprawled across the double bed as if she'd been thrashing in her sleep. Carefully he removed his dirty socks and shirt and trousers and extracted some clean ones from the battered chest of drawers, holding his breath as the old wood squeaked, but she hardly stirred. A drawer fell out, landing across his feet with a muffled thud, followed by his muttered curses. His voice woke her.

"Hey," she mumbled sleepily without opening her eyes, a small smile on her lips. She took for granted that it was _him_ in her flat at five o'clock in the morning, though he saw she'd taken her wand to bed and was still clutching it.

He climbed into bed beside her, not bothering to dress or undress further, slipping gratefully into the warmth of the blankets, so close to her body. Her hand found his and squeezed.

"How are you doing?" he whispered. Through eyes rimmed red with exahustion he could see each freckle on her up-turned nose—pale splotches against slightly ashen skin—and the shadows under her eyes. He saw the tightness in her mouth, brushed fawn-coloured bangs off her slightly damp forehead, trying to convey his sympathy and love and admiration in that single, insignificant touch.

She cracked an eye to peer at him. "Grand." The flat word dripped with satire. "How are you?" she half-retorted. Her voice was caring, but unable to shake the habit of adolescent impertinence, though her voice broke with sleep and strain.

"Did you know your face is a very becoming shade of green?" he inquired, smiling slightly. "Not quiet lima-bean, not quiet pea green, either…" he mused. "No, I suppose you didn't know that. That can't be a natural colour, can it? So your skin just turned green of its own accord?"

"Yeah, well." She rubbed a hand across her face, grimacing slightly. "It does that. You don't look much better, you know."

He laughed. "I'm tired."

"Me too. I only just got to sleep," she mumbled into the crook of his arm as he pulled her close, nestling into the curve of his body.

"You know you shouldn't be—" he began, but lost his train of thought to the sensation of her fingers in his hair, her lips on his skin.

"Remus, there's a _million_ things I _'shouldn't be'_." It was half an entreaty. "I just couldn't sleep, alright?" She shrugged and drew the curtains with a flick of her wand, suddenly stiff in his arms. He felt more than heard the gusty sigh that forced itself from her lungs. "I hate it when you have to leave. I couldn't sleep." The words were flat and dead; he knew how hard she was trying not to let him sense how close she was to crying.

He thought of apologizing, but kissed her instead, unable to find the words to comfort her. Smiling, she took his hands, intertwining the fingers in hers and placed them on her belly, just beginning to swell. She snuggled into the bow of his body, against the warmth of his skin, and fell asleep almost instantly. But he lay awake for a long time, listening to the gentle sound of her breathing, aware of the heat of her body nestled against his, of his arms wrapped around her, of her hands holding his tight, of the tiny heartbeat under their fingers.


End file.
